


The Baseball: Act 2

by kindofspecificstore



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose is a Good Person, M/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, Rose Apothecary (Schitt's Creek), but everyone is fine!, new baseball season, patrick's just having a lot of feelings, the pandemic is in the sc universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofspecificstore/pseuds/kindofspecificstore
Summary: Baseball is back! Patrick's mental health is up and down, and David is a supportive husband with a few tricks up his sleeve.(Rose Apothecary sponsors the newest baseball team. That's it. That's the fic)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	The Baseball: Act 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dairaliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairaliz/gifts).



> Hi friends! So a little while back ohhalesyeah shared the idea on tumblr, and I wanted to see their dreams happen! 
> 
> Unfortunately cov*d-19 still exists in this fic, but all our beloved characters are safe and sound. I've tried to keep things pretty light. I'm from a big city that has been hit hard by this thing, whereas that often isn't the case for smaller towns.

June 2020

David closes the screen door, coffee in hand, to the sight of Patrick at the dining table. His mug of tea has long been emptied, fingers absentmindedly pulling on his curls. Yes, _curls_. No matter how much his husband fussed and pouted about keeping his hair short, David had insisted on this new rugged farm boy look. Patrick was on his tablet, patiently waiting for zoom to load.

“Honey, we checked in with all our vendors yesterday. Who could you possibly have left to call?” His fingers graze Patrick’s shoulder’s as he goes to sit opposite him. The pandemic had brought out Patrick’s anxious side. As a man who thrived on planning, this was never supposed to be in the cards. Whether it was taking notes when they turned on the morning news, or staying up late to triple check Rose Apothecary spreadsheets, pulling at his hair had become Patrick’s new coping mechanism. 

David’s fingers curl around his coffee mug, a wedding gift that was handmade by Brenda. Though he would never tell anyone, living at the cottage was starting to turn him into a morning person. The amount of birds that surrounded their home was a peaceful soundtrack when it came to waking up next to his husband. 

Said husband was now shaking his leg, perhaps pulling on his curls with a bit more intent.

“Town council is having another meeting- they asked me to join.”

David winces. He can’t tell whether or not this is a good thing.

“You’re not thinking of running, are you?” It would keep Patrick busy, which could be good for both of them. But he needed some way to dispel his extra energy. “Because Jocelyn will play dirty and you do not want to go up against a well fitted pencil skirt”

“No, not yet. Roland wanted to talk about some new reopening initiatives.”

“And why didn’t I hear about this?”, David asks before taking a long pull of caffeine, caramel, and cocoa powder.

“I don’t think he’s talking about the store.”

David cocks an eyebrow. The store is doing just fine with the online sales- especially with the made-to-order bamboo masks. Whatever could Roland possibly need? Babysitting??? _Absolutely_ not.

“Patrick! Hey buddy, almost didn’t recognize ya there!” Roland waves from an unflattering angle, most likely propped up on the Schitt's living room couch. They're joined by Bob at the desk in his garage, squinting at his webcam, and Ronnie is sitting beside a vase of fresh flowers- probably from that florist she _knows_ so well. 

“Hi Roland!”

“Is David with you or is he still shopping for Prada masks at the Givenchy online store? Ha ha!”

David rolls his eyes. It’s unclear as to whether Roland’s poking fun or just throwing random syllables together. Patrick smirks, amused.

“No, David’s right here”

David tries to whisper, “I’m not a part of this what are you doing-" but Patrick whips his tablet around and temporarily puts them both in frame. "Roland, hi. I see you’re taking advantage of working from home.” David’s pursing his lips, taking in the plaid shorts and oversized t-shirt riddled with holes and a mysterious stain or two. 

“Oh yeah these are my formal jim-jams! I would show you my other ones, but as Ronnie has told me, they are” and he finger quotes, “not safe for work.”

Ever the impatient rule follower, Patrick tries to bring them back to the present. “Okay Roland, can we get on with this, please?

“Right okay so we’ve got the all clear from county level on playing team sports. Now unfortunately Ronnie, the net for your tennis court is still on back order”

“So?”, a pixelated Ronnie raises her eyebrows. She doesn’t want to be in this meeting any more than Patrick does, but the sudden mention of sports has definitely captured his attention. As Roland goes on, Patrick is nodding, taking mental notes.

“And the soccer posts are still bent in half. So, as mayor, I see baseball as the only logical sportthat Schitt’s Creek can handle right now. That’s why I wanted you on the call today Patrick, because I wanted to let you know team Cafe Tropical is going down! You’ve just been punked!” Roland starts to laugh. Patrick’s lips form a straight, unimpressed line. It’s Ronnie that finally shuts him down.

“Roland! As much as I love a good win, remember it’s _Twyla’s_ Cafe Tropical.”

Roland’s eyes squint, chin jutting forward with confusion. “But Twyla doesn’t play baseball!”

“No, Roland, Twyla changed the cafe name.”

“At least he listens,” David grimaces, taking another sip of coffee. 

“Okay,” Roland rubs his hands together. “So I’ll post on the town Facebook page that baseball is back in business.”

Patrick’s wheels are turning. “Great! I can start messaging my team and see who’s down to play?” 

Ronnie smirks. “I wouldn’t rely on David to save the day again. You have to show some effort this time, Patrick.”

“Nice talking to you too, Ronnie.” Patrick looks up to see David biting down an amused smile, fingers dancing around his coffee mug. “I’ll let you guys know when I hear from my team.” 

It only takes a moment to effectively log off zoom and fold away his tablet, but Patrick’s hands are already running through his hair.

“Not to side with Ronnie on this one, but I will not be reprising my role in The Baseball.”

Patrick looks up again, defeated, smiling back at David. 

The two go about the rest of their day. There’s a few online orders to pack up, which become lined up by the front door. (Delivering them will be tomorrow’s problem.) Patrick fires off messages to the rest of his baseball team, while David Facetimes Alexis in New York. ( _Chill David, I left the house one time and I definitely wore that cute little mask you sent me.)_ They stop around mid afternoon to sample David’s latest baking adventure- Ivan had sent along the recipe for the Rosebud cinnamon rolls, but David had learned the hard way what “proving the dough” meant. (It meant he had to wait much longer to eat them.)

David is standing at the kitchen counter, licking cream cheese icing off his fingers, when Patrick’s phone begins to ping with notifications.

“What the-“ Patrick leans in closer to his device, trying to parse through the texts that keeps chiming in. David thinks this might be the opportunity to bring up glasses. (Because how sexy would Patrick Brewer look with glasses? Very.) He reads them aloud for David.

_2 many ppl want to join baseball league lol *mind-blown emoji_

_Might have to make 3 teams *3 baseball emojis_

“God he types like a child,” David interrupts. Patrick nods in agreement and continues to read.

_Might have to scramble everyone up and make new teams. Probs lottery system. Only fair._

_*Detox “sorry bout it” GIF_

“Ugh. Why did we even let Jocelyn introduce him to Drag Race?” David rolls his eyes. Patrick shrugs. There’s one last text he hasn’t gotten to.

_Twy calls dibs on cafe tropical team_

“What??” Patrick exclaims, unsure if he understood that last text right. “What does that mean? I don’t understand. How can that many people want to play baseball?” 

“Maybe because everyone wants to go outside and enjoy endless Schitt’s Creek summer? Because some people need an outlet to manifest their-“ David waves a hand in front of Patrick’s manic face. 

Patrick raises his eyebrows, waiting for David to finish. He knows he’s being a little ridiculous, but this is just another thing he didn’t need today. “A third team? What’s it going to be? Ray Butani Real Estate? I mean I can understand why Twyla wants to take over team Cafe Tropical, but-”

All David can do is stand and stare, elegant fingers hanging mid-air, still sticky from cinnamon rolls. Patrick does not handle change at the best of times, let alone covid times. He forces himself to keep blinking, trying to find space to interrupt Patrick’s stammering. “Sounds like. You have your hands full. So y’know I’m just going to go for a walk.” He tries to brush it off as nonchalance. It’s not as if he’s trying to escape from Patrick, no. It’s not as if Patrick gets overwhelmed sometimes. For a person with who runs on anxiety as high as David, sometimes it’s nice when his husband is on the same level. But that’s not what this is about.

David Rose has an idea. 

He washes his hands, kisses Patrick on the cheek (Patrick who’s still staring at his phone), walks out of the kitchen, and towards the front door. As he puts his Rick Owens on, he opens the contacts in his phone. He waits until the front door is firmly shut and he’s walked to the end of their driveway before he dials.

“Hey Ronnie, I wanted to run something by you.”

***

The boys are back at the kitchen table a week later, sorting through the latest batch of Rose Apothecary massage oils. 

“You were right David, the sales for these are absolutely holding up.”

“Mhm,” David agrees, smiling crookedly, while he checks off the inventory on his clipboard.

“We should definitely write one off though,” which causes David to look up and lift an eyebrow. “Y’know, just to make sure this batch is up to standard.”

David puts his clipboard down, eyes piercing right through his husband. “And is that your professional opinion?”, his voice performatively raspy.

Patrick opens his mouth to find a witty response, but is interrupted by the doorbell. David’s eyes light up, which only makes Patrick worry.

“David, have you been scouring eBay again?”

“Who’s to say? Maybe it’s Jocelyn dropping off more nanaimo bars, I don’t know.” He throws his arms up in the air, trying be casual yet offended by Patrick’s assumptions.

David Rose knows exactly what’s at the door.

Patrick bites his lips, walking apprehensively down the hallway. There’s no silhouette beyond the frosted glass, so it’s not Jocelyn dropping by with more baked goods. Patrick opens the door with David hovering over his shoulder, trying to diffuse his excitement.

It’s a medium sized bubble mailer with a note taped to the front.

_David,_

_Let me know if this works for you, and I’ll have the rest dropped off to the new team._

_-R_

_PS: Tell Patrick this colour scheme is only going to make him look more anemic_

“Well that’s uncalled for.” Patrick crosses his arms.

David smiles softly, handing the mysterious parcel over to him.

“Why don’t you see what’s in it?”

Patrick hesitates, but takes it. He reaches inside, and pulls out jet black and stark white cotton, untouched. 

“What’s this?” He asks, now intrigued. Patrick passes the packaging back to David, using both hands to gently unfold the material. 

The sleeve are mid length and black, the same coloured piping along the collar. There’s a familiar pair of roses in clean line work in the middle, except there are less petals than usual. Instead, the petals are interwoven together by baseball stitching. And there on the chest, in clean block letters is the Rose Apothecary name.

“What is _this_?” Patrick repeats, awestruck.

David smiles proudly, watching his husband admire the physical manifestation of the past week’s phone calls to Ronnie and Roland, and the numerous mock ups he had sketched for the screen printer in Elmdale. 

“It’s nothing. I just thought you deserved a new team,” David says softly, eyes sparkling.

Patrick pouts, looking back at him with what only David can describe as doe eyes. It’s a look that says _this is not nothing._

“Thank you,” he whispers, pulling David into a hug. 

They stay in each other’s arms for a moment, breathing in the comfortable quiet and the salty smell of summer. David reaches up and brushes a hand through Patrick’s curls. For all the mental heavy-lifting that Patrick has been putting himself through, David is giving him the space to exhale. 

Patrick pulls back to look at his new baseball jersey again. A sense of calm seeps into his voice.

“I am _very_ excited for this new season. You sure you don’t want to play this time, David?” He asks while turning the jersey around in his hands.

“Mm that’s a hard no,” David replies, still smiling as he watches just how _giddy_ Patrick has become.

Even his (new) last name is printed on the back. Patrick cocks his head.

“Wait why did I get the number two on mine? That’s not my number.”

David stifles a laugh. “I think it was something about how _I_ hold the current title of #1 player in Schitt’s Creek?”

Patrick frowns, unimpressed, whipping the new jersey in the general viscidity of David’s ass. 

“Uh huh. Well you can tell Ronnie she’s going down this season.”

Patrick walks back towards the kitchen, stripping off his t shirt in order to try on his new uniform. David stays at the door, enjoying the view of Patrick’s strong, bare shoulders from behind. He calls out,

“So I take it that’s a yes on the design?”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! <3 I'm kindofspecificstore on tumblr.


End file.
